


I am sheltered (by your heart)

by medusa20



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Mature Situations, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusa20/pseuds/medusa20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nights on the train with Peeta and Katniss.</p><p>Katniss promised Effie they would be more discreet and, well, they really did try....</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am sheltered (by your heart)

The first night when I lead him into my chamber, I truly think nothing of it. When I turn to face Peeta, he is breathing rapidly. He licks his lips a few times and grips my hand so tightly, I squeak.

“Katniss, I….” Peeta begins.

I frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? Do you feel sick?” Peeta shakes his head. I free my hand and give him a small smile. “I’m going to wash up, okay?” Peeta nods, still silent. Before I close the door, I see him sit heavily on the bed and drop his head into his hands.

By the time I came out, Peeta has already changed into his pajamas. He is still sitting on the bed, but his demeanor is far more relaxed. He smiles at me as I walk toward him. I stop mid-step, suddenly shy around this boy with the bread. This doesn’t look like my Peeta with his damp hair already looking mussed from sleep, his white t shirt and blue pajama bottoms with a faint stripe in them.

“You went to change,” I nearly snap at him.

“Well, yeah, did you expect me to sleep in my dinner clothes?” Peeta’s smile falters.

I shake my head and climbs into bed. Peeta draws the covers up over my shoulders then curls himself around me. We take a minute to sort ourselves out. I move his arm where it is resting too heavily on the curve of my waist. Peeta takes a few moments to smooth the hair at the top of my head that tickles his nose.

“Goodnight Peeta.”

“Sleep well, Katniss.”

X

Effie frowns at us all through dinner, but neither one of us asks why. Haymitch also seems on the verge of saying something, but every time he starts, he either looks at me or Peeta and closes his mouth again.

I suppose I should have been uncomfortable at dinner, but I didn’t really care.

Later, as I was combing out my braid, there were two soft raps on my door.

“Did you get lost?” I ask as I let Peeta into the room.

He places his toothbrush down on the bureau, “It was weird.” Peeta is still balancing the toothbrush on the bureau. “Haymitch said he wanted to talk to me and then he just kinda babbled on about other Victors and how to act at the stops on the tour.” Peeta shrugs.

“Was he drunk?” I ask. I am eager to get to bed. After last night’s stretch of uninterrupted sleep, I am greedy for more.

“Nope,” Peeta pops the p, “Totally sober.” I raise my eyebrows in surprise and he grins. “Told you it was weird.”

I laugh, but it dies quickly when I notice Peeta is staring at me.

“What?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“You look pretty,” He says simply. “I haven’t seen you look this…” he pauses to search for the word. “Delicate since we had our final interview at the capitol.”

I look down at myself. My nightgown is simple: cotton v-neck and a pale aqua color. It falls to my knees and has short sleeves. It’s nothing fancy, but I blush anyway.

X

Peeta’s groan rumbles in my ear. I lift my head from his chest. His eyes are squeezed tight and he’s muttering under his breath. He groans again.

“Peeta?” I whisper.

He turns on his side with such a force that his shoulder clips me under my chin. My teeth click together. Before I can recover, he’s rolled back toward me and now I am pinned under him, my chest pressed against his back.

In seconds, he’s awake.

“Katniss! Katniss!” There is panic in his voice as he realizes his arms are empty. I give his shoulder a shove.

“What happened?” Peeta scoots off me. I can taste blood in my mouth. I must have bit my tongue.

“You were having some kind of nightmare,” I tell him. “You hit me with your shoulder.”

Peeta’s hands are on my shoulders, his face full of concern. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” I reply. “Are you?” Peeta nods and I settle back down in bed, but he has swung his feet off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Now it is my turn to be alarmed. It’s dark in here. And late. I can still taste some of the blood in my mouth and I don’t want to be alone.

“I was going to get another shirt.” Peeta explains. “I’m kinda sweaty from that nightmare.” He notices my expression. “I’ll be right back.” He assures me, but when I don’t reply, Peeta sits back on the bed.

“Katniss?” He raises my chin.

“Don’t go.” I mumble. During the day, Peeta can be out of my sight for hours and I am fine but at night, the thought of him leaving no matter how brief makes my heart flutter in panic.

Peeta purses his lips, “I’ll stay but this shirt is coming off.” In one swift motion, he’s taken it off. I sense rather than see the muscles that ripple with that motion before he’s pulled me close to him again.

It’s too much contact. We’ve never been this close without some layer of clothing between us. I feel my cheeks warm and a shiver runs through me. I turn on my side so Peeta can spoon around me.

“Katniss,” Peeta sing-songs in my ear. “Are you blushing?”

I nudge him hard with my shoulder. “Go to sleep, Peeta.” I feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest.

When I wake again, it is still dark. The moonlight fills the car and Peeta is breathing easily beside me. I study him in the half light. He’s filled out some, but still isn’t quite back to the shape he was in before the Games. My hand reaches out and I watch as my middle finger dips to trace a line down the center of Peeta’s chest. He flinches a little, but doesn’t wake. I marvel at the sensations from that small touch. Peeta’s skin is soft, but still feels tougher than mine. He has a light smattering of fine hair, but I can’t tell if the heat I am feeling in my hand came from him or me. 

I touch him again, my first three fingers hover over him and travel to just above his navel. His stomach is firm, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. I rest my hand there, registering that this most innocent touch has somehow made my knees tremble. Peeta’s hand covers my own and I hope it is from habit, that he is not awake. I glance at his face. His eyes are rimmed with silver light; his expression unreadable. He sits up and I feel every muscle in his stomach move and then he slides my hand back up to the center of his chest. He tilts his head toward mine.

“Don’t,” I say.

“Why?” Peeta tightens his grip on my hand. His heart beats beneath my palm, so strong it is like I am holding it. I shrug. The feel of Peeta’s lips is so familiar to me and yet a kiss now makes me think of a cliff and we are too close to the edge. Peeta moves and I am filled with fear that he is leaving. I move my hand from under his and place my arm around his neck.

“Katniss, I’m just lying down again. I’m not going anywhere.”

Peeta pulls me down again, wrapping his arms around me but it is a long time before either of us drifts to sleep _that_ night.

X

So a pattern begins. Effie is in a constant state of irritation. Haymitch is drinking more than ever and the prep teams share sly smiles and winks whenever they think Peeta and I aren’t watching.

The funny thing about it all is that neither Peeta nor I care.

Effie corners me on the way to lunch and gives me a long speech about appearances. I listen respectfully, but it’s hard to take her seriously when she’s lecturing me with lime green hair and wearing a violet dress with shoulders that nearly fill the hallway.

I tell her Peeta and I will be more discreet and that seems to satisfy her.

As for Peeta and me, each night finds us sneaking little touches and small kisses while the other feigns sleep. Peeta no longer bothers with a t-shirt and I have grown comfortable with the feel of his skin through the thin cotton of my night gown.

One night, he slides his arm high up on my rib cage just under my breasts. His left thumb buried under the curve. I try to keep my breathing regular, but it hitches when I feel his lips place a row of small kisses along the side of my neck. 

But Peeta can’t take all the blame. My right palm smoothes over the skin under his navel and his hips give the slightest buck each time I run my hand just above the waistband of his pajamas. That is another thing that has changed. Peeta now wears shorts to bed. Each morning, I find I have worked my leg between the two of his, circled his waist with my arms and rest almost my entire body on top of his.

X

“Katniss!” Peeta is screaming my name. I head in his direction when I hear another “Katniss” break the silence. I stop. It can’t be. Once more Rue’s scream fills the forest overlapped with Peeta’s frantic cry for me. I stand unsure of where to go for only a second before I head toward Peeta. Rue, I know, is dead. Then my ears pick up another sound. Over my shoulder, the mutts are lining up and I begin to run.

I run, but they are snapping at my heels. I scale a tree, screaming out to Peeta the whole time but he has fallen silent.

“Peeta! Peeta! Peeta!” My voice breaks on the last cry and one of the mutts grabs my sleeve…

My legs kick out and I am punching with the one free arm I have until that is also pinned down. I am struggling to free myself with only my legs…

“Katniss! Wake up. Katniss, I am right here”

My eyes fly open but it takes me a moment to register where I am. My sleeping car. My bed. Peeta hovering over me, holding my arms above my head.

“That must have been some dream.” His brow is furrowed with concern.

Relief courses through me even though my heart is pounding with adrenaline. “I couldn’t find you.” I sob. “I could hear you, but I couldn’t find you and then the mutts came.” Now my tears are falling. “Peeta, you stopped calling out to me and I couldn’t find you.”

Peeta sits up in the bed and pulls me onto his lap. My arms go around his neck as he rocks me and makes soft shushing sounds in my ears. The flow of my tears slows to an occasional drop and I watch as one makes slow progress down Peeta’s chest. I raise my head. My legs are extended on either side of his waist. I pull my arms back and my hands run down Peeta’s shoulders.

He closes his eyes briefly, but not before I see how dark and burning they are.

Our lips meet and I lose myself in the sensation of being able to kiss Peeta without the interference of cameras. His hand travels to the back of my head and weaves into my hair to keep me from breaking the kiss. I have no intention of doing that. Peeta tilts his head and his lips part slightly. I move my arms up to cradle his head, mimicking what he is doing to me. There is the briefest brush of his tongue against my bottom lip and shock skips across my belly.

I pull back to whisper, “Do that again,” and then crush my mouth against his once more. Peeta deepens the kiss and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I can’t help it - a small whimper escapes me. Peeta’s hands drift down to my hips. I cross my ankles and hear his breath hitch, but before I can register what that means, Peeta’s lips are brushing against my ear then I feel the scrape of his teeth against my earlobe.

I had heard girls at school talking about how something a boy did made their toes curl and assumed it was a figure of speech.

Oh, I was so wrong.

“Peeta.” I gasp, but he continues to trail kisses along my ear. Once again, he pulls the lobe between his teeth. It’s like there is a direction connection from that part of my body to my hips. I writhe against him and he groans. His mouth slips down behind my ear. The kisses there are hot, urgent. Peeta pulls little bits of flesh from there against his teeth and my back arches. He moves then toward the hollow of my throat and gives my hips a savage tug against him.

The friction. Him against me. I cry out.

Peeta raises his head, “Are you okay?” His hair sticks up from where I have been pulling on it. I nod and press my lips to his again. This kiss is slower, softer but by no means less intense. Emboldened by the blood singing in my veins, I move against him once more and his fingers bite into my hips. I want to hear those sounds again, to know that I am the one doing that to him. Peeta slides one hand down my leg and back up again as I duck my head to place kisses along the side of his neck.

There is a light sheen of sweat there and I flick my tongue over it. Peeta draws in a sharp breath and I smile thinking that this is probably a far cry from being the discreet young woman I told Effie I would be. Still, Peeta’s reaction isn’t enough for me. This need inside me wants to make him move, to press himself against me like I did to him. I mimic his actions on my earlobe against the tendon along side his neck. He pulls me closer to him, but I want more. It isn’t until my mouth lands in the curve of his neck and shoulder and I pull the skin between my teeth that Peeta moans. I smile and do it again, applying more force there.

“Katniss,” Peeta pants into my hair. “Oh God.”

I do it again, worrying the skin with my teeth and Peeta’s arms tighten around me. His hips thrust upward and he pushes mine down. Small white stars flicker for an instant against my lids before Peeta has me flipped onto my back. His hands push up under my nightgown but content themselves with tracing the curve of my waist.

Our lips meet once more in frantic open mouth kisses. Peeta whispers to me, but I am too lost in the sensations swirling through me to register his words. We kiss and kiss and kiss until we’re practically drinking each other in. Peeta grinds into me and my hands rake down his back. I reach down and push his hand up. When his fingers fan out to brush against my breast, my legs twine around his. There is no way to tell us apart.

Peeta raises himself on his elbows. He is about to speak but I am so taken with his mouth - bright red, slightly swollen - that I kiss him before he can speak. I move my mouth to his ear. Perhaps this is another way to elicit those sounds from him.

“Katniss,” I trace the shell of his ear with my tongue. “That is …ah, ah…really nice but…”

“Yes,” I whisper and feel him tremble.

He lifts his head and looks deep into my eyes.

“We have to stop,” I say. Peeta nods then places a soft kiss on my lips. He slides off me and leans back onto the pillows, pulling the covers up halfway. I climb up next to him and burrow in as his arms encircle me.

X

Peeta’s heart beats double time. I move my head from his chest but still I hear the thump. I sit up and realize the sound is a light knock on my door. I climb out of bed and open the door an inch. Cinna’s eye meets mine.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” He asks.

“Hold on a second.” I tell him and close the door. “Peeta!” I yelp and he jumps. “Cinna’s at the door. Get up! We’re late.”

Peeta so befuddled he can’t untangle himself from the bedcovers and I can’t stop laughing long enough to help him. Cinna is talking to me through the door.

“Katniss, I know Peeta’s in there. I have something for him.”

Peeta shoots me a look of pure helplessness which sets off another round of giggles from me. He finally manages to rip the quilt away from him and he stumbles into the bathroom. I let Cinna in.

He enters and just stares at the disheveled bed. I think he is holding a garment bag but when I reach for it, Cinna pulls it from my reach.

“This is for Peeta,” he tells me and walks over to the bathroom door and knocks softly again before saying, “Peeta, it’s Cinna let me in.”

I hear water running and Peeta muffled words saying something about it not being a good time. While this exchange is going on, I try to brush my hair. It’s completely matted and when I push it away from my neck, my mouth drops in horror.

Behind my ear to just below my jaw are the deep red marks from Peeta’s lips.

Cinna finally convinces Peeta to open the door a crack. Peeta’s eyes meet mine and I point to my neck. He bites his lip in apology. Cinna hands him the robe.

“You can’t go roaming around the train like that,” Cinna nods at Peeta’s sleep shorts. “Effie will have a stroke and…” Cinna pauses, then pushes the bathroom door open wider. What evidence I bear from last night pales in comparison to what I did to Peeta. The mark on him is the size of one of those plums I adore and about the same color. Cinna turns to look at me. I sigh and show him my neck. He gives his head a slight shake. 

“Okay.” Cinna is all business. “You, put on that robe and then get to your room.” He closes the bathroom door. “And you,” Cinna points to me. “Sit at the makeup table and let me see what I can do.” I drop into the chair before the mirror. Peeta appears seconds later. I reach my hand out to him but Cinna steps between us.

“That’s enough damage for one day, you two.” His tone is stern but I know Cinna well enough to catch the spark in his eye.

And Peeta and I will still have tonight.

Fin


End file.
